I met my ex, the man I nearly married, through my darling friend Lindsey. By accident. I was not supposed to meet him (I've spent hours wondering what nasty piece of karma had me meeting him first). I was supposed meet a friend of her boyfriend, sadly this man had more than one friend and I met my future ex, Paul, first. That is a whoooooole different story in my uniform index but it needed to be said so I could discuss the other friend.
Cam, the one she'd originally intended for me, was....oh he was yummy. Built, tattooed, uniformed with that nice square jaw line. On top of that he was sweet, stable, intelligent and LOCAL (if you develop a taste for the military that becomes an important point). But did I meet him first? No I met my ex, when he came walking into my friends apartment in all his tattooed, badass soldier glory. And instantely I was smitten. Other guy? What other guy?
Years later, Cam would eventually become a close friend. We had weathered my break up with Paul (and his nasty accusations that I was the pyscho and not Paul), his break up with the bitch to beat out all bitches (her name was a virtue too, irony at its best) and we had also weathered his general whiney-ness. I had a genuine, good guy friend. A man who would put my drunk ass to sleep on his futon and then sleep on the couch next to it, just to make sure I was ok. A man who called me at 5AM to ask me what kind of lotion wouldn't bring his acne back out in full force and a man who sent me pictures of the gifts he got for his nieces and would spend endless nights talking to me, just because I needed a friend.
So why am I writing about him, since clearly he is an all around great guy? Well, because I, in my infinite wisdom, FUCKED THE WHOLE THING UP. A little light flirting and some sexual innuendos were normal for us, we were both young and always seemed to be single. But one night while I sat at work and he at home, it turned into a whole different game. I wish I could remember the details, but all I rememer is that I called him a "goody two shoes" and by 15 minutes before my shift ended he was asking me to come over so he could "pull my hair". After a (very) short internal debate I jumped in my car and drove 45 minutes for this booty call that I had very little hope for.
WRONG. I'll save my fuck up for another post, if I'm going to lay out all the cards of what a wretched bitch I was, it deserves its own post. But I will leave with this, I remember rolling over and blurting out the first words that came into my head, "Sweet Jesus I was fucking the WRONG soldier"
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